The Red Soldier
by Maseiya
Summary: Beginning to end: when Usagi and Mamoru meet; when Usagi and Seiya meet; Serenity... Endymion... Seiya. Including, and beyond, StarS.
1. Prologue

Chiba Mamoru had awoken before his alarm clock set off. The color of the sky and the dimness of the light immediately told him it was not yet five AM, and so he lay back down to regain the peacefulness of sleep, but after a quarter of an hour of restless tossing, decided to get out of bed. He slid his feet into dark blue slippers that, every night, were strategically placed to let him put them on in the mornings without him having to look for them. It was an action made to be an unconscious gesture, one of many. He liked to feel prepared at all times, liked the satisfaction it brought when all aspects of his life were squarely in his hands.

His life had gone awry two years back in his junior year of high school when for apparently no reason his dreams were suddenly plagued by a girl calling out a man's name and for him to remember. Mamoru would ask her Remember what? But the girl, whose features he could never make out distinctly, always disappeared into a thick mist, not answering his question, not saying anything else, just fading into nothingness, before he could so much as blink twice. It was always the same dream, down to the last detail. But there was an echo in Mamoru's mind that thrummed painfully, always asking, always pleading, always gently demanding in that sad, soft whisper: Endymion, please remember, please remember… it would go on and on and on, reverberating with such strength that he woke up sweating and gasping, feeling a bit of fear in his heart. Fear, not because this apparition kept plaguing his dreams, but fear for the _girl_—because he _wanted_ to help but could not. He knew it was crazy, but he thought that he had crossed paths with this girl before… he also knew it was crazy to want to protect her, for the rational part of him argued that he had never met this girl in his life, and the even more rational part of him realized he had never felt the need nor the desire to go even further than a polite greeting to _any _girl he had ever met before. After waking he would often just lie in bed, mulling over the dream, turning every word and image of it over in his mind, wondering why he thought he knew this girl and disturbed that he cared so much.

And then one star-filled night, he awoke to find himself roaming the great, crowded city of Tokyo in a black tuxedo, complete with a cloak and tall hat. And he remembered that he had done this every night since the dreams began….

He had to put a stop to this.

The next night the dream-girl asked another favor of Endymion, and Mamoru could not remember while dreaming to tell her that his name was Mamoru, not Endymion, so please leave him be, thank you very much. But something about her, the sadness that resonated from her soul to pierce into his heart, stopped him cold, as it had all the nights before. The Silver Imperium Crystal, she said, her gaze even from afar intense enough to hold him where he stood, is close by… you must find it.

The sensation of helplessness, which Mamoru hated with a passion ever since he could remember and had always tried to avoid, increased as the nights rolled by. He still did not know the girl's identity and he had never heard of a silver Imperium crystal in his life.

He thought he would fall into despair for his helplessness when, one night, while snooping into jewelry stores to look for the crystal, he encountered Sailormoon. She was a young girl with two ridiculous odango-styled buns atop her head, making her like some warped version of Mickey Mouse. From the buns trailed long, thick tresses of white-gold hair. At that time it only reached the back of her knees. He had never really stopped to appreciate her hair, unique as it was, because he had been thunderstruck with her Sailor outfit… and the sight of her standing up to a monstrous being—which he knew at once was not from their world. There was pure evilness in the way it moved and eyed the girl in front of it, and he felt strangely protective of her. He clutched a rose tucked neatly in a pocket of his cape, ready to throw it as a distraction of sorts if the girl needed aid.

Mamoru recalled what she had said that night, speaking to the demon in a pissed-off voice (from which, he gathered at hearing her tirade, that the monster had ruined her life as a "normal" girl, whatever that meant). The demon had asked who the hell was it that dared try interfering with the Negaverse and the girl had answered hesitantly at first. Who am I? I… I… The moon from behind her seemed to glow more brilliantly.I am… Sailormoon! Champion of love and justice!

He had reeled at her speech. The title _Sailormoon_ seemed vaguely familiar, like the girl in his dreams. He had watched her, with interest burning quickly in his eyes, his identity disguised by a simple eye mask. Watching her had made him wince in the beginning; at the first sign of danger the girl had started wailing in such a high-pitched voice that all beings nearby with ears had to cover them or risk eternal deafness. Surprise came in spades that night when the girl defeated the demon's magic with a magic of her own. For a long moment neither of them could speak; they had both been surprised at what she had done. He recovered first and took the opportunity to introduce himself to Sailormoon.

A feeling of freefall and rightness charged the air between them. He moved with a cat's grace and a matador's flair. The scent of wild roses permeated their awareness.

It has been a pleasure watching you fight, Sailormoon… I hope we meet again. Until then— he had turned to leave, but she stopped him by calling out, Matte! Anatawa… dade?

Part of him wanted to laugh at himself for parrying her title with one of his own, part of him revolted at the idea, and another part whispered that it was destiny for them to have met. And a name had started swirling in his mind, pushing to be voiced. Surrendering to the impulse, he pinched the brim of his tall hat and looked over his shoulder to her. Blue-gray eyes met crystal-blue eyes. He had smiled, then—his first smile in weeks—and said, I am Tuxedo Kamen. Until next time, sayonara. With a rustle of black fabric and a sudden whoosh of wind through the trees, he had jumped away from her to melt silently into the protective seclusion of the night.

Sailormoon soon became like the girl whispering to him in his dreams. He saw her every night, feeling he had been drawn to her, feeling her need for his help. As she had left an impression on him, he returned the favor and left an impression on her with his crimson red roses, which always seemed to help her out of a scrape and soon became the mark of his truly unique attacks (who else would think to throw a _flower_—however sharp its thorns were—at a _demon_?). However he couldn't believe that any girl who threw herself nightly into dangerous situations could act so childish sometimes, as shown when she would wail inconsolably whenever a demon started blasting her. Yet when she found it in herself to fight back, he could not believe the beauty and glory she displayed, as though she became a different person entirely. He saw that as time went by and she fought every evil thrown in her way, this other side of her would appear more and more frequently.

In a matter of days after meeting Sailormoon new details to his dream were constantly added: first a crescent moon in the background, then a glowing crescent moon turned sideways on her forehead. It illuminated the girl's face and hair, and though he still could not see her face clearly he took note of the lush pale goldenness of her long, trailing hair. At this time he knew she was royalty, a goddess, a Princess of other times and other places than modern Earth's second millennia in Tokyo. He did not know what to make of it. As he fought never-ending demons of the Negaverse alongside the mysterious Sailormoon, his dreams became clearer and clearer. As Sailormercury, Sailormars, Sailorjupiter and the legendary Sailorvenus soon joined Sailormoon's side, new revelations came upon Mamoru. His dreams took a new hold on him, so that when the nights came and he fought with the Sailorscout team, he did not know whether he was living in reality or in dream. His dreamstate occasionally did an odd thing to his mind. A few times he thought he felt the essence of his dream-girl overlaid with Sailormoon's, and he thought _she _was his Princess. He thought this was because the odango-haired Sailor had become inextricably linked, in his mind, with the dream-girl: he had been helping the dream-girl by helping Sailormoon.

When the dreams became focused one night after dozens of battles with the enemy, the girl's face was finally revealed to him. She was far away, but dream-Mamoru ran towards her, his movements made sluggish by morning mist. He said her name gently, worriedly: Serenity-hime. And dream-Mamoru knew this was the first time her name was known to him, and he stored the name deep inside his heart so that when he awoke he would not forget it. The Princess smiled at him as though to tell him that was not necessary; he would remember, now, always. Her pale blue eyes wavered from tears of sorrow and a prophecy of disaster, however, and from her soft blood-drained lips came the full speech. This dream would never be altered again.

If you want to know who you are, you must find the Silver Imperium Crystal. The world would be destroyed soon if you do not. Endymion, please remember me, please remember everything soon. Endymion, please remember, please remember….

He thought that she could not possibly be talking to him, she must have mistaken him for this Endymion fellow—again. A little flare of jealousy erupted, and he had to look away for a moment. When he could bear to bring his eyes back upon her his heart lurched at the despair that filled her eyes. When he said her name questioningly a single tear rolled slowly down her cheek, glittering by the light of the stars and the distant Moon, and that tear seemed to Mamoru to be the signal that she had finally broken from the weight of destiny. Before he knew what he was doing and could stop himself, before he realized that she was a _Princess_ and he an ordinary, _common man_, his hand had cupped her cheek. His thumb rubbed lightly over the sobbing mouth, and his long fingers bent to wipe away the tear. Unable to stand being so far away from her, he drew her into his arms and lowered his face into her hair. Before his eyes closed, he saw that he recognized the Princess's hairstyle, but he could not place where he had seen it before. It only registered that it was a unique style and that he had seen the type before. He caressed it, running his fingers lovingly through the lengths of it, and felt her whole body tremble. He knew she was about to disappear on him again, but before she could he whispered fiercely to her that he would remember, he would remember everything, and he would save her from whatever threat it was that chained her down.

She was gone the next instant, and he did not know whether she had heard his promise or not, but the intensity of his will to keep that promise would die only with his death, when his body had crumbled to ashes and his soul was left to wander freely, in peace with the universe.

When he awoke from this new dream he knew he was in love with Serenity. He had never been in love before.

He could not believe that the dream-Mamoru, this other side of himself that had never surfaced before, was so gentle. In everyday life his mind and body would freeze at the chance to do anything so sweet, and while he was not a cold person, he certainly wasn't known as the warmest either. This other side of him must have hid deep, deep inside where it could not get out long ago in his childhood, when he and his parents were in a car accident and he had been the only one to survive. The total amnesia that followed had claimed his childhood, and therefore his happiness and his innocence, and a new life as renamed orphan Chiba Mamoru had begun. With it only coldness and reservation seemed to suppress his feelings of loss and abandonment.

Mamoru unwittingly took out some of his frustration with a junior high schoolgirl he always happened to bump into on the street or in The Crown, a neighboring arcade where one of his good friends worked at. The first thing he had noticed about Tsukino Usagi, upon meeting her in front of a jewelry store, the same one where he met Sailormoon—and on the same day, too—was the brilliance of her eyes. Light blue that flashed angrily into his own, he could not help but feel a little admiration for her liveliness and a little pensive at the familiarity with which the air of this girl, like the Princess and Sailormoon, had struck upon him. The next thing he had noticed was her hair: just like Sailormoon's, just like…. He could not remember. For some reason he became befuddled at trying to remember. As a saving grace he called her cowtails.

These are not cowtails, stupid, she had yelled, they're pigtails. Pigtails!

He opened the bunched sheet of paper she had thrown over her head unknowingly at him. He was completely surprised to see a 37 marked in red on some sort of test sheet. He crumpled the paper up and tossed it back to her, saying with contempt, Who's calling who stupid, pigtails. She had walked away fuming and muttering about crazy idiots dressed in tuxedos walking down the street in the middle of the day… he had watched her go, not missing one footstep.

From this unpromising start arose all hell. Mamoru picked on the girl relentlessly. He called her _odango-atama_ (dumpling head); at first just to watch the hilarious reactions that played over her face, later because it would be weird to start calling her _Tsukino_ or _Usagi-chan_. His nickname for her just seemed so appropriate. And it wasn't as though she truly hated him for this. She just hated him for other reasons (he was sure).

One day as they were arguing he caught himself actually _enjoying_ their heated debates. She was just so _lively_, and he secretly loved watching her brilliant eyes, which betrayed her every thought and emotion. He started wondering if any other guy could read her so easily, and something akin to anger and jealousy would ripple within. Each time he felt this way, his untenable emotions would turn back on all logic, clamping ever more securely to his heart. He had to hold himself back whenever he saw the _odango_ with his friend Andrew, who worked at The Crown. To keep appearances up he joked playfully with Andrew and teased the _odango_ until she was too steamed up to stand it any longer and stormed out of the arcade. At these times he thought he could imagine smoke wafting out of her flushed ears. Mamoru knew it was immature for him to do this every time, and Andrew would call him on it, but he could only shrug and tell his friend that there was just something about the girl that disturbed him. Which was true, in part. Just disturbed him in ways he would never confess to anyone. But on the day that he realized he really liked Tsukino, he found himself at a loss.

His head ached with the dilemma he found himself in. Attracted to a schoolgirl, falling for a superhero and in love with a Princess who for all he knew did not really exist, what was a guy to do! He had never even _liked_ a girl before in any capacity, and here within a few months he had found himself thinking constantly of these three—all in one fell swoop, no less! He could not understand it; he had thought himself more practical than this; he had thought himself immune when he had never even taken a second look at any girl up until _they_ had come along.

Then again he had never accounted for one thing—the determining factor in his growing attraction to these girls: romance. The meaning of the word had always entered one ear and floated out of the other like the nagging of a flea, and suddenly he was immersed in its very definition. He began thinking of the parries and blows he exchanged daily with Tsukino on the street; he began blushing whenever he came close to Sailormoon (thankfully this was somewhat hidden by the mask); he began _daydreaming about his nightly dreams_—surely the best indication of madness. He could not imagine himself in said situations with any other girl. He was only glad he was not in such a way with any of them that he was forced to decide to whom his loyalty belonged.

Tsukino Usagi, bishoujo senshi Sailormoon and Serenity-hime were all extremely pretty, as girls went, and _perhaps_ Mamoru could have understood his growing attachment to all had they all been of alike character and temperament—but they were each different as night versus dawn versus day. After fighting with Sailormoon and dreaming of his Princess, all of his pent-up emotions during the night would be unmercifully unleashed on Tsukino the following morning, and she, poor girl, never knew what he was about—for he would hide his feelings for her too. Consequently their arguments became more and more heated throughout the passing of days.

Any other guy… no, any other _normal_ guy would not have been able to handle what Mamoru did during these times. First of all, and perhaps most importantly, there was _magic_ involved. And not just some cheap magician's kind of magic trick, but the kind one could find in a fairytale (he thought of the correlation between light versus dark, the good versus the evil, but the threat of falling over the edges of ridiculousness being as it is, he knew he could never have respected himself again if he dwelt on such black-and-white ideas). He knew he should have freaked out, knew he _should not_ have believed in it. It was like believing in the Tooth Fairy or Santa Claus, for heaven's sake!—And yet he did, and not only willingly, but without any hesitation or second thoughts thereafter of it. It was as though some part of him had always known there was magic in the world. He was living in such a broad range of magic, too. Well, perhaps there had been no magic in his relationship with the odango girl, but certainly it was a miracle that he should find himself talking to her every day and not wanting to give it up for anything… but what then of Sailormoon and Serenity-hime? Surely he was the only guy fighting beside a real-life superhero? Surely he was the only one with nightly dreams of an imagined Princess? Surely he was the only person crazy enough to carry out a task appointed to him by this dream-Princess? Yet, he had to admit, this was how he met Tsukino and Sailormoon. Were it not for his mission to find the Silver Imperium Crystal for Serenity-hime, he would never have met the other two girls. In some way he was thankful… in some, confused. Did his Princess really want him to meet other girls? But—he would rebuke himself angrily—of course. She already had someone—_Endymion_. She only needed Mamoru to find this all-important crystal.

He was bitter for a while. Perhaps the bitterness would have lasted longer than a week, but then came the day all things were revealed to him, just as Serenity-hime had promised. And that day, everything about Mamoru—his life, his sense of reality, his vision of the future destiny held for him—was changed forever.

The final battle with the first Enemy Tuxedo Kamen and the Sailor Senshi fought was probably one of the hardest to overcome. Although the scouts had fought well and learned much from the first demon onslaught and onwards, the decisive battle between the Negaverse and the Sailors was one filled with terrifying emotional pain.

For these were the very demons who had destroyed their lives a thousand years ago. They had attacked on the dawn of Endymion and Serenity's wedding day—they had destroyed everything on that day.

It all had something to do with the Moon. Something terribly wrong had passed there all those years ago.

Even with the searching of the Silver Imperium Crystal, even with the fighting against countless Negademons by Sailormoon's side and his dreams of the Princess, Mamoru was unprepared for the next step Discovery had planned for him.

_They_ had unveiled Tuxedo Kamen's identity. He did not know how they had found out, but the minute they beckoned for him he had no choice but to answer their challenge to battle. He had been trapped to fight alone with them—without Sailormoon's help, without her powers that could match theirs.

Neither had accounted for a girl to be pulled unknowingly into the fight. Mamoru cursed his luck that he had not noticed Tsukino Usagi following him to the park that day.

The sky had been blood-red that afternoon, the air strangely still. He'd noticed, as he turned Tsukino away to tell her to go home quickly, that all signs of life seemed to have stopped. The seconds passed… and he and Tsukino were sucked into the Enemy's portal.

When he'd awoken, he found the girl lying unconscious beside him. An anger unsurpassed had filled his heart, and hearing an evil cackle, he challenged the enemy with rage barely controlled in his voice. He thought, _I should have pushed her away… but I was too late…. No! She'll be safe. I'll protect her now. I won't let the Enemy lay a finger on her!_

But without anything like Sailormoon's powers, he was nothing to the Negaverse. Though he fought bravely and with cunning, it was all he could do to just _defend_ himself. He felt himself falling over the brink of disaster… he had thought, as he was quickly weakened by his opponent's attacks, that it was such a sad thing…. He would never know who he really was… and he would never get to know his True Love better. His life had been meaningless….

It was then, as Mamoru lay crumpled on the ground with hope dying in his heart, that hope—and something more—came back to him with triple force. Tsukino Usagi had stood to watch Tuxedo Kamen battling with a strong enemy, and when he fell at last she had run over to him, fear and worry shining through her tears. He'd touched her hand and apologized to her. I'm sorry… I couldn't protect you… odango….

Her eyes widened, but they were both distracted when familiar shouts came from a distance. The Sailor Senshi! Four of them. But where was Sailormoon—

He'd gasped, eyes widening with disbelief and wonder, as Tsukino Usagi pushed herself resolutely up and cried, Moon Prism Power! MAKE UP!

A flood of warmth and light had washed over his tired body and soul, and he'd felt himself _healing_ with yet another one of Sailormoon's incredible powers.

Sailormoon…? someone had whispered, and Mamoru realized the name had been wrenched out of his mouth. But she had already turned to face the enemy.

_Tsukino Usagi is Sailormoon…? _

There hadn't been much time to wonder at this, though. Somehow the enemy, in a new display of evil magic, had absorbed most of the Senshi's powers. An enormous cackling of energy had spiked the air, and too late everyone saw that the enemy had aimed his next blow at Sailormoon. Such a concentration of power would kill anyone hit by it!

Terrible screams filled the night—piercing painfully, everywhere, into him and through him, into every fibre of his being, passing on and leaving him breathless—and without thinking he'd hurled himself in front of Sailormoon—taking the blast meant for her fully.

His insides had erupted with a white-hot fire, and he'd fallen heavily to the ground. His back arched from the shock, and he knew everything had been seared through with that powerful attack. He felt himself fading… but he was _glad_ he'd taken the hit for her… for her. His eyes searched longingly for her face… but it was hard to see anything. The attack had left him half-blinded.

And then a light had encompassed his sight. For a second he'd thought Heaven's Gates were opening to him, and the shining light that poured on and through him seemed the most miraculous thing on Earth. He closed his eyes to accept his death.

He heard sobbing. Should he hear such miserable sounds coming from Heaven?

Endymion….

The name, sounded aloud, entered him with a pulse—a heartbeat that spread throughout the room, a force without sound—as though it were his heartbeat and more, as though the name belonged to_ him_….

He opened his eyes.

And tears unbidden welled to them.

_She_ was holding his head in her lap. _She_ was crying his name of long ago. _She_ whom his awe-filled eyes beheld was none other than Princess Serenity of the Moon Kingdom.

_The Moon Kingdom—_?

She was sobbing uncontrollably—oh how beautiful she was, how sad, how wonderful and terrible at the same time—that they should at last realize the other person for who they really were, only to be wrenched away by death at this moment…. With every breath he took, the pain that seared through him seemed to increase tenfold. He didn't have much time….

He'd said, in a voice just below a whisper, in a tone full of happiness and remorse and loving realization, Odango… Sailormoon… Serenity-hime. It was you—all this time, it was _you_…!

Oh, Endymion…, she had whispered back, her eyes shining so beautifully with her tears, Endymion, Endymion, my dearest Prince… I remember now. I remember everything now! Her sobs wracked her body so hard he was able to feel it, even with his dulling senses.

They both knew he was dying. She smiled courageously for him, though, and said, Whatever it takes… I'll bring you back…. He smiled too and said, Yes… we were meant to be together… you and I….

She was talking to him. But her voice was fading…. He heard her say, Is this truly our fate? Are we doomed to this every time we find each other? Must we die before our dreams are fulfilled?!—Endymion, don't die, please don't die….

The few heartbeats before he lost all consciousness, he saw his third and last miracle of the night. That _light_ again… filling everything… banishing all darkness away. And it was all glittering, gathering towards them… towards _her_. In slow motion he saw one of her tears drop towards him… he could see it falling, falling, falling ever towards him…. The light shot sparkling with all the colors of the rainbow towards that tear. He had never in his life seen such wonderful, wonderful magic….

Princess Serenity's tear for him had transformed into the long-lost Silver Imperium Crystal.

It had such power within it… thoughts swirled thickly in his mind. He remembered… this Crystal had the power to destroy entire worlds at a time… and it had the power to create a Golden Age like the Silver Millennium, the centuries Selene, then Queen of the Moon Kingdom, had ruled the galaxy. And it had all been hidden as the most precious treasure within the girl whose eyes were now boring deeply into his own…. And then, and then….

Blackness, nothingness… nothingness….

But it was not the end. Since the Silver Imperium Crystal had at last been recovered, the reincarnated Princess of the Silver Millennium had been able to defeat the Negaverse using its powers. She had also been able, with the help of the Crystal, to revive her true love—Prince Endymion of the Earth Kingdom… now known as Chiba Mamoru. They had started their lives anew.

It seemed as though fate would finally grant these two lovers' wishes, and pass them by without causing further trouble.

Mamoru snapped out of his early morning reverie and looked to his kitchen clock for the umpteenth time. Holding a warm cup of coffee, sitting and facing the rising sun, he wondered, with a little smile, why he had been reminiscing so much of late…. Though two years had passed and Mamoru was now a rising freshman in college, that period when he and all the Senshi had gone through their first trials still seemed fresh to him. He didn't know if he would ever get over the feeling of discovering he was former Prince Endymion of the Earth Kingdom, now future King Endymion of Crystal Tokyo (though that would not come to pass for many, many years yet). And finding his Princess again—Usako, he affectionately called her now—also seemed unbelievable. It was like a fairytale—and Mamoru believed in the basic truth of fairytales now—too breathtakingly wonderful to have come true, even if they had gone through many other things together since that time. Like when their nine thousand-year-old daughter Chibiusa from the 30th Century had dropped in on them, supposedly to help them out with the next wave of enemies….

_Erghh_. He would get a migraine if he kept bringing up these memories. All that was done and over with, so why did he keep thinking back on those times of late?

He looked down and read through his acceptance letter from Harvard once more, and thought to himself, I am definitely not looking forward to telling Usako about this….

Mamoru looked out his window, lapsing again into a daydream state, and his sigh filled the room. The return of silence reclaimed his awareness, and it seemed to him to parallel the sudden emptiness that filled his heart.

That day had dawned cloudless and heavy with a foreboding of passage into doom. There was to be a precarious shift in destiny regarding the trillions of lives strewn over the Earth.

Not one being that breathed the fresh air of the morning, or stared dazedly into the uncommon brilliance of the clear blue sky, could have known that before the year came to its conclusion, the world would end.


	2. Chapter I

Tomoe Hotaru was surprised. Standing outside on her porch was her best friend Chibiusa, who was leaning against a white marble column, breathing heavily. Her ash-pink hair, in its usual distinctive odango style, was in disarray, but Chibiusa didn't seem to mind that. She only looked attentively at Hotaru, and her ruby eyes looked imploringly into her own.

"Onegai, Hotaru-chan…," Chibiusa wheezed out in a small voice.

Hotaru stepped aside, letting Chibiusa come into her house, away from the bright sunshine of early noon. The pink-haired fairy jumped in with a lively step, and Hotaru felt the familiar twinge of love for the Princess she had befriended. She closed the door and turned to watch Chibiusa flitting from room to room, skipping here, running there, giving little exclamations of happiness.

She walked to the kitchen, keeping an eye out for the genki girl so that she didn't accidentally bump into her, and poured some freshly made lemonade into a crystal glass filled with large cubes of ice. "But I don't know, Chibiusa-chan," Hotaru called out to the ethereal form that was still twirling about in glee. "I'm not sure it's such a good idea for me to—"

"Oh, come on" Chibiusa exclaimed, now skipping into the kitchen. She collided into the counter, using the momentum to raise her body over it with her tiny hands, and came face-to-face with Hotaru. "Usagi won't mind at all!"

"Because you don't want her to know we're there…."

Chibiusa grinned like a little devil.

Hotaru raised the glass to her friend, and the only sound that could be heard was the clinking of the ice against the crystal. Chibiusa lowered herself back to the ground and accepted the lemonade, still smiling.

"Why do you want me to go with you, though?" Hotaru asked suspiciously. "You usually spy on Usagi-san and Mamoru-san by yourself."

Chibiusa took a huge gulp before answering. "Mm!" she said, looking appreciatively at the lemonade. "This is good, Hotaru-chan! I bet you made it yourself. Arigatou gozaimasu!" Putting the glass down on a table, she leaned conspiratorially towards Hotaru and whispered, "Something is up. I can feel it. Mamo-chan came to our house yesterday, and Usagi of course hogged him all to herself, but before he left, he told her that he wanted to see her tonight—he said that he had something important to tell her—and that she should come to his apartment and stuff, and Usagi acted sort of weird all last night, probably because of what he said, and, come on, Hotaru, you have to come with me! We have to see what's up! Ooh, I bet Usagi will make fun of me, and if she does, I'll ambush her when we get home, and scare her out of her wits, and maybe I'll find some spiders and put them in her slippers…." Chibiusa growled.

Sometimes the girl could be too much, and she knew that there was much more to her alibi than she was letting slip. But Hotaru laughed and gave in. "Hai, hai! What time do we leave?"

And so the two girls walked out to the garden, where they sat on a bench swing under a great leafy maple oak tree, and they planned all sorts of devious ways to spy on Chibiusa's future parents; they also surmised on what could possibly be wrong with Mamoru ("I bet he'll tell her that he's bored of her company, and just wants to spend a little more time with me!" Chibiusa crowed triumphantly), and what he would tell Usagi and how he would go about telling her. As they swung gently in the cool shade with hundreds of brightly colored flowers all around (with tiny, bright yellow ones under their feet so that they caressed the tips of their bared toes), sharing the ice-cold lemonade between them, Hotaru felt that nothing could be more fun than spending time with Chibiusa, and she was glad that she had invited her on this expedition.

"Mou, where _is_ that Usagi girl?" Hino Rei exclaimed. She checked the time again, and tapped her foot in mounting impatience. "I told her to come at two o'clock." She whirled on her blue-haired friend Mizuno Ami, and thrust her silver watch directly in front of her eyes. "Does it not read two thirty-eight now?" But before Ami could register any numbers at all, Rei had pulled her wrist back down in order to cross her arms; now her fingers did the tapping. Her soft lips formed a puff of disbelief. "Hontou ni, that girl has not improved since junior high! Always late! Zettai-yo!"

The Inner Sailor Senshi, in their regular form as normal high school freshmen, were standing outside the front entrance of The Crown, which was usually their meeting place for all social occasions. Dressed in summer clothes made of light, breezy fabric that rippled in the wind, the group was constantly admired from passing men of all ages, but the girls took no notice for once.

"I'm getting a little worried…," Ami said, and she strained her eyes in the direction Usagi usually ran from, but none of them could detect any sign of her.

The attractive brunette Kino Makoto agreed, but before she could get two words out Aino Minako, who stood next to her, suddenly hooked her elbow around the tall brunette's neck, so that she had to bend her head in order to withstand the sudden weight. "Perhaps!" Minako whispered theatrically, so that all the girls could hear. "Perhaps she ran into a certain tall dark handsome man, and he stole her away into the park, and she can't run away to us because she has been put under a magic spell, and the only way she can get out of her romantic trance is for us to _bust in on her _while she's being kissed by that guy, whose name conveniently rhymes with (cough) Mamoru!"

There was a general silence after Minako had finished, and after a few moments Makoto continued as though she hadn't been interrupted: "Perhaps we should call her."

"Unnecessary," said a small clear voice at their feet.

The four girls looked down as one, and beheld the sleek black form of Luna and the shiny white furball that was Artemis. The cats, standing prettily on their paws, their tails swishing patiently from side to side, looked up at the Senshi with an eerie intelligence in their eyes—even for cats.

Not too surprising, though, when one considered that they came from another planet, could speak Japanese and transformed into humanoids at will.

Luna spoke up again. "A phone call will be quite unnecessary. Usagi wanted me to relay a message over to you: she is not feeling very well, but she wants you to have a good time at the track. She says not to worry, that she only has a little headache."

The Senshi frowned but could not counter such a request. They were already late for the race as it was.

"Well…," Makoto said, but her voice betrayed her worry.

Minako, too, hesitated. "A small headache? That's unusual… usually nothing gets in the way of Usagi getting the chance to see the Outer Senshi."

Luna stepped forward. "Oh, go on, girls! Have fun watching Haruka-sensei. It's been a long while since you've seen her race, right? Go have fun!"

The girls finally agreed, but they extracted a promise from Luna before they left, that she would tell Usagi they would be calling on her after the race was over, and so she should be ready for their visit. Luna promised with a thankful smile.

"Ja ne!" Rei, Ami, Makoto and Minako all waved good-bye to the two cats on the sidewalk, and the good citizens of Tokyo that walked past and witnessed this pretended not to notice such odd behavior.

"If I were just a leaf blowing in the wind," Haruka said mildly, "I would be ripped apart by this crowd's cheering." She turned to Michiru and grinned.

"Your kind of crowd, hm?" Michiru returned with a small smile. "But even if _you_ hadn't anticipated such a crowd, _I_ certainly did. Your reappearance in the racing world has brought out all the die-hard fans once again." She paused so that her words would sink in. "They have missed you, my dear."

Haruka's response was to laugh in delight. Her voice was low, rough, and incredibly attractive. "Ahh… it feels good to be in the spotlight again. If they have missed me, I can tell you that I have missed them more." She snaked an arm across her partner's slim shoulders, and lowered her face into her hair, which was the color of the waves surrounding a tropical paradise. She whispered in Michiru's ear, her lips barely grazing the soft skin, sending shivers down the elegant girl's spine. "You get this at every concert. It certainly is a rush, ne?" Michiru closed her eyes and gave a small, knowing smile. Haruka nuzzled the tip of her nose up and down her girlfriend's neck, breathing in deeply the fragrance that was all seductive, all Michiru, then returned to her ear… closer this time… lowering her voice a little more so that Michiru felt rather than heard the words: "Is it better than being with me?"

But Michiru only laughed, pushing the tall ash-blonde tomboy away with a bold smirk. "Your fans are awaiting you, Haruka-san, and you know you mustn't keep them waiting…." Haruka's reply was a look of sincere need and agony, but Michiru stepped further away and said softly, "We can always do this later."

Haruka suddenly seemed to see something beyond Michiru, but looked back at her quickly in dismay. There was a mass of girls coming their way, and they both knew what that meant. "Please let me…." Haruka begged.

"No! It has been far too long for your fans. Suck it up; go and greet your fans!" and Michiru pressed Haruka towards the loud and slightly threatening mass, so that she had no choice but to face the arduous task of shaking hundreds of hands, and signing hundreds of pictures, and hugging and kissing hundreds of eagerly upturned cheeks.

And this was only before the race began.

Michiru watched from a little distance, and smiled with all her heart. At last Haruka was able to enjoy this again, without having to worry about any evil lurking nearby, waiting to enslave the planet.

"Miiiichiiiruuuu-saaaaaan!"

Michiru turned and smiled when she saw the Inner Senshi coming to greet her, and found it amusing that they were in such a hurry as to barrel down the escalator to ground level while flattening any stray teenage girls who unhappily found themselves in their path.


	3. Chapter II

The Young Musicians show is an annual event that all people of Japan, young and old, come to attend every summer. It is a festival of talent that is supreme in its ability to attract crowds of all sorts, not to mention drawn over three adrenalin-filled days (always starting on a Friday). Each band and soloist is highly competitive with the other—every contestant able to swear to having worked all his life just to be in it. This year's event was shown to be promising—the ads distributed around the country highlighted that there were to be two hundred and thirty-three musicians showing up and giving all they had on stage. They would receive thunderous applause if they were any good, then wait in anxiety—would a contractor come up to them and sign them up for a gig? After all, this was the premiere event for all serious young musicians. If a person was born with a natural beat, breathed for music, lived for music, and died for music—and had a natural ability to make it all look good—well, this was certainly an excellent start for the musician. For, indeed, there was no better time to get hooked up with a music agent and be told that he had promise, and would be a big star in the music field some day. All musicians would die for the words: "Music is yours, baby. Come with me and we'll work for riches beyond your wildest fantasies." It is the dream, the goal, the ambition that all people who sing or play have, and once they hear this speech or something similar to it, they give a shout, dance a crazy jig of happiness, and faint. It happened all the time. They could die with a smile on their face.

Another thrilling aspect about the Young Musicians event is the fanatic, worshipping fans that a musician or group could acquire—especially if the members are talented, carefree, and attractive. The best example any citizen in Japan could give of the perfect band would be to point out that year a group of five exotically handsome teenage boys posed as singing vampires. Each had their faces painted a beautiful, luminous white; each had his eyes rimmed with dark eyeshadow, and each young man's lips gleamed a pale pink that fans openly yearned to kiss. When they opened their mouths, tiny, perfect fangs could be wooed over, and all the more glamorous about this were the small, quick tongues that slid invitingly over and under the convincing vampiric teeth. And because they had such straight, perfect noses and shoulder-length, jet-black hair, and because their voices seemed to drip with melancholy beauty, nearly all of the screaming, mad teenage girls (and of course, some boys) packed in the Young Musicians stadium were swooning with delight and desire over these seemingly ethereal boys. The girls up close to the stage reached out their arms and hands to touch the velvety softness of the black cape that swirled with a life of its own around each vampire boy, and these girls were the first ones to faint in ecstasy. The Vampyres' (as they were called) combined voices resonated with the sounds of heaven on earth, of mist in the morning air, of soft waves rolling in the sea—with the same promise of uncontrollable power underneath. Their first live performance was received with cheering that could be heard miles around, and upon receiving a dynamic standing ovation with roses and stuffed animals thrown at them, the Vampyres, inexperienced in receiving such acclamation, beamed proudly and with a childlike wonder at their popularity, which of course helped to increase it. Everyone cheered for more, but the young teenagers had tears in their eyes and their throats had closed up with affection and pride, and they could sing no more that day. They were immediately signed up to make their own CD, and each were paid with a total of 1.6 million dollars their first year of professional singing. Such instant success was yet to be rivaled.

No other group of musicians had ever achieved such high fame as they did, nor so quickly, and they went unchallenged as the Teenage Musicians Of All Time. Of course, no other musician had such angelic faces or so deep and melancholy voices; and all musicians were jealous of the swooning girls that kissed the very ground these musical Vampyres tread upon. It had, in fact, become a tradition over the years to respect these five boys as the very best, and they achieved almost hero-like status from the majority of teenage musicians. This lasted for seven blissful years, so of course, after all sorts of luxury and love that these boys, now between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five, had achieved, each had grown in him a hubris that consumed him. By the time they had been embraced around the world for their brilliance and gained fans of every ethnicity, they actually believed—nay, _expected_—that the world revolved around them. This caused much complaint among the parents of many young fans, and an uneasy feeling to the occasional non-fan when he bumped into one of them and did not immediately grovel on the floor for them.

"Sure they're good," one man from a well-read magazine once dared to write, "but they won't last long much longer, what with their attitude nowadays. A true musician cares only for his music, not the riches that could be heaped upon that musician because of his talent—or, in this case, for being pretty." The author of this article mysteriously disappeared after this was published, and the Vampyres never smiled so sweetly, posing for photographers.

As a sign of goodwill to all musicians this year, and this year only, the Vampyres were rumored to be coming to the first day of the show to shake hands with each musician and fan. Later they would give a short but "inspiring" speech, but they refused to sign autographs (more than one jokingly complained of telling signs of carpel tunnel syndrome). Perhaps this was why the turnout for this year's Young Musicians had been so impressive, and many musicians, aspiring as well as professional, touched clammy hands to their temples before bowing deeply in respect and fear whenever they happened to see one of these Vampyres. These boys-turned-men were their heroes—lifelong dreams could be seen with sparkling clarity when looking into the eyes of a Vampyre. All musicians waited anxiously to shake their hands.

All musicians save three.

These boys were sixteen-year-olds, both handsome in face and serious in expression. They wore, in unison, stylish light-gray suits with black silk ties and pearl-colored shirts. Something notable about them were their eyes; it seemed that they held a great depth of knowledge in them, and their hair; each tied up his thigh-length hair in a ponytail whose strands, in the warm spring breeze, flowed and circled about their necks and arms with grace. One of these boys, whose name is Kou Yaten, squinted to see the face of the leader of the Vampyres. He said, disgustedly, "They're musicians? Pa-the-tic."

Kou Taiki, the tallest of the bunch with deep brown hair and patient, violet eyes agreed, remarking, "They look more like models for a _This-is-the-consequence-of-drinking-and-driving_ publicity stunt than anything else."

The last of the boys, Seiya, who had a high forehead and the unlucky gift of devious cunning, laughed, and slapped both Yaten and Taiki on the back. "Then we agree that their egos are as bad as their music," he said.

"Really," Yaten drawled, "just look at them! They look like the walking dead. And what's so good about their music anyway? It's all so melancholy and sad and _evil_. Don't they know what the meaning of life is?"

"Well, they sure don't know what the meaning of music is," said Seiya, laughing again in high humor.

Yaten and Taiki, still obsessed with the Vampyres, were spying and mocking the music group when Seiya suddenly excused himself. "I feel a bit nervous," he said, "about going up on stage. I've never really sung with thousands of people in front of me before. I'm gonna look around and try to shake off this uneasy feeling I have."

Taiki frowned, saying, "That's a good idea. Just don't get yourself lost."

Walking away, Seiya called out, "But it's my specialty, darling. I'm just so darn good at it."

Yaten yelled, "Meet us in our rehearsal room, else I'll skin ya alive!!" But his admonishment was wasted; Seiya had already disappeared.

Had the leader of The Three Lights stayed to spy and mock the Vampyres with his comrades, Yaten would never have gotten himself into trouble. So into the nasty makeup of the great musicians a roguish idea was conceived in his mischievous head, and his emerald eyes sparkled with a cunning look. Telling Taiki to stay put until he got back from the restrooms, he pushed his way through a large crowd to one of the Vampyres and said in a sweet but resounding voice, "Bite me."

He planned to lure the Vampyre out of his cocoon of contemptible manners, and reveal the formidable musician's true character to his doting fans. But, as happened often with Yaten due to his impetuosity, it was too little too soon.

The Vampyre, whose name is Ryo, thought that Yaten was a female fan, and said, raising an eyebrow, "Sorry, girl. I don't do autographs." When Yaten fumed at this, coloring in the cheeks from this piercing belittlement, Ryo took notice and looked closer at the "girl."

"Oh, my!" he laughed. "You're not a girl!" And so loud was his exclamation that many people turned to stare curiously at Yaten.

All Yaten's rage seemed to ball up into his fist, and his eyes suddenly flared with green fire. Ryo took a step back, for he had rarely seen anyone look at him the way this small boy did, but he was too slow. Yaten swiveled at the hip, dealing a practiced blow at the bigger man, and split the Vampyre's lower lip.

_There_, Yaten thought in satisfaction. _There is the first step to The Three Lights' fame_.

Angered by this action, Ryo snarled at the boy. He felt the blood trickle down his chin, and heard the people all around gasping in shock, but he did not care to hide the danger in his eyes. But, a practiced performer now, he acted with precision and a theatrical flare. Raising his upper lip, and suddenly looking very much like an angry, growling wolf, he slicked his tongue over the surface of his teeth. He smiled, but by doing so only split his lip more, so that the blood gushed anew. Though it was painful to him, Ryo smiled even more menacingly, and almost like a caress, his tongue slid from his teeth to the blood, and he slowly licked his lips. Yaten suddenly felt something akin to yearning deep inside grab a hold of him. Even without the makeup, Ryo would still have been beautiful in his own exotic way, and his tongue looked so pink, so wet, so inviting…. What kind of thought was this?

Ryo saw the look that flashed over Yaten's face, and smiled inwardly. This happened all too often. No one—absolutely no one—could resist the charm of a Vampyre. No girl stood a chance… and neither did a boy. He brought a finger to his cut lip and extracted a drop of blood from it. He raised the finger to Yaten's cheek and saw him flinch. But the silver-haired beauty did not back away, so he ran his finger ever so slowly down to the boy's mouth. Yaten did not move—he was too furious to move—_how dare this devil incarnate touch him so_? There was now a faint trail of blood on the boy's face, and looking at it Ryo suddenly felt like a real vampire. The urge to take the boy into his arms and lick the blood off his cheek was overpowering, and he let out a small gasp. "Who are you," he wondered, not realizing he had voiced his thought.

Yaten hesitated. Why should he tell this man who he was? He felt the warmth of the blood on his cheek, and he shuddered, the chill on his spine intense. This… this Vampyre was… _exciting_…. But he was _not _that kind of boy. He regained his composure abruptly, furious for letting himself be tricked in such a way. Handsome or not, exotic or not, the man really had horrendous taste in makeup—even if the sole purpose was to make him look like a Hollywood vampire. "Go to hell," he said, finished with this suddenly boring man, and he turned to walk away.

But Ryo was not done with Yaten yet. Few strangers had ever made him so intrigued, and yet this boy was different. He had that rare spiciness in character that attracted him particularly—and the face of a girl, too. He grabbed Yaten's wrist. "Hey, boy," he said, "it's rude to just walk away from someone like me like that. Apologize."

Yaten remained indifferent. His eyes, calm and cool, showed almost no reaction to Ryo's demand. "Let go," he whispered, threatening. He eyed the crinkle on his perfect suit made by the man's grip, and he wanted to twist his arm free. But that would cause his suit to possibly rip, and of course he wanted none of that. "Let go," he repeated calmly, and raised his eyes, now slanted in warning, to the man.

Ryo's heart seemed to skip a beat. The boy's face, up close, was even more beautiful than any person had a right to possess. Such smooth skin, and the way the boy was looking at him—_Ahh_, he thought excitedly, _he has the makings of a Vampyre_! So he cried over the hum of the crowd to the lead vocal of the Vampyres, whom he knew to be nearby, "Sayge! Come over here!"

The first thing Yaten noticed about Sayge was the fine black hair that cascaded down the man's broad shoulders. Each strand moved in elegant harmony with the gentle breeze that filled the late afternoon air of Tokyo, and Yaten involuntarily sighed in amazement. He then looked up at his captor, and wondered what Ryo had in mind to do to him. Ryo was still clutching his wrist, but the grip was neither hard nor painful, and he knew that it was a test to see if he would try to escape. But he would not. He would face down these bullies and teach them the meaning of humility. He stood, proud and angry, and faced the slow-approaching Sayge with all the courage he could muster.

In all the time that Sayge took leisurely strolling over to them, chatting lightly with a girl that had practically draped herself over him—she constantly ran her fingers possessively about his front and back—Ryo stood eyeing the boy whose name he still had no idea. But Sayge would get it out of him—he knew he would, because the guy had a charm that was spellbinding to all people, young or old, male or female. When Sayge was about eight feet away, acting as if he still hadn't noticed Ryo and his prisoner, Ryo could just make out his voice: "… So I was standing near the cart, nice and quiet like, when all of a sudden this big ol' crazy hic jumps onto me, hooks her legs around my waist, and shrieks 'Marry me! Marry me!'—and you should have seen what happened, Yumiko!"

"What? What?" The girl wheezed, her eyes wide.

Sayge took a long, dramatic breath, almost funny in its overdone histrionics. But he continued in a rush, and his voice was now low and serious. "Everyone around us went berserk. I tried to shake her off, but man, she was _strong_. So what could I do? I ordered my bodyguard to help get her off my back, and the idiot conceived the brilliant idea of finding the biggest stick around and _whacking_ her ass off me."

Yumiko laughed mercilessly in a high-pitched voice. Ryo and Yaten both thought, _What a silly girl_.

Sayge smiled though. "She came off, but she was still begging me to marry her, so I smacked her across the cheek. She finally comes to, takes one long look at me, grabs my face and gives me a wet one."

"You mean she _kissed _you?" the girl asked, clearly disgusted. But Sayge's smile only broadened.

"That's right. I ask her for her name, get it, then run like hell." He paused a moment to chuckle. "I can bet you that she must have been shocked outta her panties when, that evening, she received a call from my lawyers accusing her of harassment and demanding trial."

While Yumiko lost control of herself and was laughing (wailing almost) in a high-pitched, hysterical manner, Sayge finally took notice of Ryo. His eyes narrowed appreciatively when he acknowledged Yaten, noting Ryo's protective hold on the boy's wrist and the defiant glare in the boy's eyes. "Well, now," he murmured, smiling like a gentleman. "What have we here, Ryo? Why are you holding hands with this boy as if you two were…?"

Yaten blushed, but in anger, and looked away. Ryo secretively appreciated the fact that the boy did not try to yank his arm free, and said, "He has a great voice. And he looks like one of us, a Vampyre. He'd be an instant hit… I was thinking of adding him to the group, Sayge. What do you think?"

The lead vocal laid his arm around the girl's shoulders and squeezed lightly, to the girl's great pleasure (witnessed by the stars that lit up her gray eyes), then let her go. He stepped up to Yaten and gently took hold of his chin, lifting it so that the boy's face was angled toward his. For a brief moment it looked as if Sayge were going to kiss the boy, and Ryo's brows knotted in an unexpected, confused anxiety. But he only looked into the impenetrable green eyes that were still turned away from him. "Look at me," he murmured gently, his voice deep.

Although gentle, the words were spoken like a command, and Yaten reluctantly swiveled his gaze to meet Sayge's gentle look; he was almost pleasantly surprised to look into eyes as green and bright as his own. "Tell your lackey to release me. He's wrinkled my suit," he commanded of Sayge.

Sayge was taken aback, but he chuckled and gestured with his hand. He was not the only one to notice the reluctance with which Ryo let go of the boy.

"What's wrong with you?" Yumiko demanded haughtily. "Sayge told you to do something…."

Inflamed with anger and embarrassment, Ryo raised his hand to slap her, but Sayge intervened, his lean body coming between Ryo and Yumiko. "Not in front of a crowd, Ryo," he whispered into his ear, and Ryo let his hand drop to his side. His face became emotionless; it was a natural reflex the Vampyres trained themselves to put on whenever something went wrong. But Sayge chucked Ryo lightly across the shoulder and winked, whispering again, "Bad publicity." Ryo only nodded.

Sayge then told the girl to run off. She complied after much whining, but when she finally left, the lead Vampyre turned his attention back to Yaten, who was now standing next to Ryo looking oddly bemused. He pursed his lips and shook his head. Ryo was absolutely correct in that the boy could become a Vampyre. Losing himself in the boy's sparkling eyes was too easy. And he had a good voice, too. Smoky and sexy. But he had to be good in some aspect of musical performance to become a Vampyre. So he said, trying to make his voice sound casual and indifferent, "Are you a fan? Or do you work here?" Yaten shook his head. "So you're in a music group?"

The boy's defiant stance faltered for a fracture of a second, and he looked suspiciously at Sayge. "What does it matter to you?" he asked warily.

"Nothing at all," Sayge returned swiftly. But he eased up. "I confess that you confuse me. Do you not recognize us? Why do you defy me? Do you have no respect for your elders?"

"Disrespecting _you_ seems to me the most logical thing to do in this case," Yaten spat.

Sayge did not want to get angry. But he said in a light tone that (almost) concealed a growing anger, "What is this boy's name, Ryo?"

Ryo shook his head. It was then that Sayge noticed the blood, now dried, on Ryo's lip. Frowning, he turned to look closely at Yaten, and saw the faint blood smear on his cheek. He wanted to laugh. "Got into a fight, did you? Over what?" he asked, not expecting to get an answer.

Yaten jumped at the chance to tell these men off, though, for his mischievousness had returned and he was still a little peeved at Ryo's rudeness, and in white-hot fury he cried, "Why are you trying to take advantage of me? I told you I'm not interested!"—thus distracting Ryo and Sayge, as well as everyone around.

But Yaten had been deceived in thinking that any of these people would help him; as every one of them knew the Vampyres, none of them were willing to get into trouble with them.

Sayge seethed; he said through his teeth, "Ryo. Grab the boy and let's get the hell out of here."

"Right," Ryo affirmed, masking his apprehension and presenting the world with a cool smile to anyone who cared, and before Yaten could protest, both Vampyres had blocked off any chance for escape. Ryo saw Sayge grab the boy's right arm, so he grabbed the other, hooking his elbow loosely with Yaten's. "Come on, boy," he said. They walked off towards the nearest restroom.


End file.
